


Déjà Vécu (Already Lived Through)

by ginamc



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Broken!Oliver, F/M, Olicity end game, Season/Series 03 Spoilers, Supportive!Barry, character death (sort of)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-02-13 20:30:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12991941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginamc/pseuds/ginamc
Summary: During a fight with DeVoe, Barry saves Oliver from a fatal blow, but in the process, both men are whammied by the Thinker’s device and are put in a coma. But if they’re in a coma, how are they both sharing the same hallucination? Barry is along for the ride as Oliver relives troubling memories from his past. Will he try to change them or can he accept them as just that—the past?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This takes the place of the Flash episode, “Don’t Run” and the Arrow episode “Irreconcilable Differences”. This story may contain certain events from “Don’t Run”, which will be identified as such.
> 
> This story contains spoilers for Arrow episodes "Broken Arrow" (3x19) and "The Fallen" (3x20).

Oliver had been surprised to get the call. It really wasn’t the best time. He’d been looking forward to some downtime with Felicity. It hadn’t been that long since their spontaneous double wedding with Barry and Iris and he could still hardly believe this was his reality. A crooked grin crossed his lips at the thought. Felicity. His wife. Something swelled inside his chest and a lump of emotion formed in his throat. Barry’s voice on the other end drew him back to the present moment. 

“Earth to Oliver. Come in, Oliver.” 

He could practically see the smirk on Barry’s lips, causing him to scowl. “I heard you. I was thinking.”  
A poorly disguised laugh reached him from the other end of the line. “Not about our conversation, I bet.”  
Shaking his head, Oliver changed the subject. “Felicity, William, and I were kind of hoping to spend Christmas at home this year. After all the craziness that happened with Earth X—”

“Hey, if you can’t make it, it’s cool,” Barry offered, though Oliver heard a slight note of disappointment in his voice. 

It wasn’t that Oliver didn’t want to go. He owed Barry and Iris one, given that their elopement had been a catalyst for Felicity’s spontaneous proposal and the subsequent marriage. On top of which, Barry was his friend, something that he’d come to value even more so recently. The two men had been through enough together that Oliver shouldn’t even really have to think about such a simple request.

Oliver sighed. “Let me talk to Felicity, all right? God knows if I don’t consult her on this, I won’t hear the end of it. I can’t make any promises, Bar, but I’ll try.”

The excitement returned to Barry’s voice as he replied, “Sounds good. Let me know either way.”

With a grin, he said goodbye and ended the call. He exhaled on a sigh and punched in Felicity’s number. “Hey, sweetheart,” he begins, trying to infuse more than a hint of affection in his tone.

Her response is immediate. “Okay. What’s wrong?”

Oliver grimaced, trying to keep his tone from giving him away. “What makes you think something is wrong?”

“You only ever call me sweetheart when you want something…and it’s usually something I’m not going to like.”

Sometimes he really didn’t like that she knew him so well. He thought momentarily about continuing to deny it, but in the end decided it would be best just to get to the point. If it landed him in the doghouse, he’d live with it. She was still likely feeling that newlywed glow and he hoped it wouldn’t take much to earn her forgiveness.

“I just got off the phone with Barry—” he said slowly.

There was an instant change in her tone. “Oh? How are he and Iris doing?”

“They’re doing good,” he replied. “Actually, they’re looking forward to a little get-together for the holidays with some friends. He asked me if we’d be interested in coming.”

The pause on the other end of the line lasted so long that Oliver wondered briefly if she’d hung up on him.

“Felicity?”

Another long silence. “I’m here. I just—we haven’t even been home long enough to properly settle in.”

“I know,” Oliver murmured. “And believe me, I was looking forward to some ‘us’ time without Arrow business interfering. But Barry—I kind of owe him and Iris both.” He paused. “It’s just a little get-together. We can fly out, spend some time at the party and then bow out early for some time just you and me.”

He could practically hear her wheels turning. “What about William? We can’t just leave him behind on Christmas.”

Oliver grinned. Her “we” clearly indicated that she was on board with the idea, though she did have a point about William. He’d intended for William to go with them. He’d never spared a thought for leaving him here. It was going to be their first Christmas as a family, after all. That stopped him cold and his grin widened. It had been so long since his life had been stable enough to even consider having a family of his own. 

He’d briefly entertained the thought of Felicity being pregnant with his child a few times over the years, but those thoughts had been utterly demolished the night Felicity had been paralyzed. That night, he’d just been grateful that she was alive. But now…he and Felicity and William…they were a family. His family. The image of Felicity glowing, more beautiful than ever, as she caressed her growing abdomen made his breath catch. 

“Oliver? Oliver, are you all right?”

He could hear a hint of anxiety in her voice as she tried to get his attention. Shaking the thoughts and the overwhelming emotion away, he swallowed and replied.

“Yeah,” he replied, slightly breathless. “Just thinking about you…wondering what I’ve done so right to deserve you.”

The tension faded as she spoke, “Oh, Oliver. I’m the lucky one.”

He ducked his head, smiling sheepishly as he blushed. Thank God no one else was here. They already teased him enough about how mushy he was when Felicity was around.

“I should call Barry,” he murmured. “Let him know to expect the three of us.”

He could almost hear the smile in her voice. “I’ll start packing.”


	2. Weakness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver relives the first two of many painful memories from his past. The difference? Barry is there to anchor him to reality.

Oliver slowly regained consciousness, his ears ringing so severely that at first he couldn’t hear anything beyond it. He tried to open his eyes, but snapped them immediately shut when a blinding light caused his already excruciating headache to worsen.

It felt like thousands of tiny, sharp needles were stabbing at his retinas, and temples, the sharp pain shooting down the side of his face and across his jaw. Confusion set in, but each time he tried to remember where he’d been before and who he’d been with, the intensity of the pain had him drawing a blank.

Slowly, the ringing in his ears faded enough for him to hear Barry calling his name. He tensed when he felt a hand squeeze his shoulder, his eyes again opening. Everything was blurry at first. It was only after several long moments that his vision cleared and he found himself staring up at Barry. He groaned, his hand flying to his still throbbing head.

“What the hell happened?” he asked thickly, his mouth dry.

Barry shrugged. “I don’t know. The last thing I remember is calling to invite you, Felicity, and William out to Central City for Christmas.”

As Oliver looked around, he froze. He recognized this hallway--was intimately familiar with it, in fact. The color of the walls, the numbers hanging beside each door--But how was this possible? What was he doing here? Or better question—how had he gotten here? His chest tightened and he felt suddenly short of breath, his features becoming an unreadable mask.

“Oliver?”

Barry’s voice cut through and Oliver’s gaze snapped in the younger man’s direction. For several long moments, Oliver remained silent. Something in his friend’s gaze brought him back to reality and he sighed, diverting his gaze.

“This building—this hallway—I recognize it,” he murmured. “Thea and I had a place together here for awhile.”

The tightness in his chest had reduced to a dull ache as he drew in slow, deep breaths to center himself. With panic fading, he was aware that he felt unsettled. Something about this whole scenario wasn’t right and it had him on alert. If there was one thing Oliver hated, it was not being in control of a situation.

His gaze slid down the hallway to the door that he knew would lead to the apartment that had been the setting for some of the most excruciating memories of his life. Just thinking about stepping inside that place had his stomach twisting itself into knots. He closed his eyes and exhaled a shaky breath, then opened them again, pushing himself up to a sitting position. The sudden movement made the room spin and left him slightly breathless. Barry called his name in a panic as he slumped back against the wall, his eyes shut tight.

“Take it easy,” Barry urged. “The last thing we need is for you to pass out right now.”

He opened his eyes and his hand shot out to grab Barry’s arm, using it as an anchor to pull himself to a standing position. Somehow, he managed to stay on his feet even as his legs threatened to give way underneath him. He let go and leaned back against the wall, drawing in deep steadying breaths.

Thankfully, the dizziness was beginning to pass and his head was finally clear enough for him to think straight. His eyes again drifted down the hallway to the door that had once led to his and Thea’s shared apartment. Though he had no idea what he would find, he knew he had to go. Even without looking, he knew Barry understood. With a huff, Barry half-heartedly punched Oliver in the shoulder.

“You’re a masochist,” he murmured.

A smile played at the corners of Oliver’s lips as he pushed away from the wall, standing still for a moment to gain his footing as he slapped Barry on the shoulder before striding toward the _door_ , the younger man walking beside him.

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It took several long moments for the words to sink in, his heart thudding against his rib cage as the magnitude of what Quentin had just told him had him wanting to bolt for the door. Of all the things he’d imagined waiting for him on the other side of that door, this was the one he’d least expected.

_Harper was killed an hour ago._

But those weren’t the words that had stung the most.

_I’d say I’m sorry, but I think we both know whose fault this is._

Shit.

He stood frozen to the spot, no words coming. His eyes found Thea on the couch and the unreadable mask she wore was tearing him apart.

Not again. God, not again.

Despite the fact that he knew Roy was alive and that it had all been a hoax, the memory was pulling him in, consuming him. Guilt. Shame. Anger. Regret. Each emotion hit him one after another, barreling into him like a freight train. He was powerless against them. Movement from the couch caught his attention as Thea stood, her features tense, holding back tears as she headed for her bedroom, the door closing hard behind her.

He wanted to go after her. To tell her he was sorry. To beg her to forgive him. But he didn’t. Fear stopped him. Fear of what she’d say. Fear of what she’d do. It was the same fear that had halted him in his tracks that night. Turning he opened the door and closed it behind him as he stepped into the hallway to find Barry waiting for him. The younger man wore a concerned expression, but said nothing for a long moment.

“Oliver,” he breathed.

Shaking his head, Oliver pushed past him, slamming his shoulder hard into Barry’s as he headed for what he knew to be the next stop on the tour. Because if he was going to relive memories from that night, this wouldn’t be the end of it. He heard Barry sigh and the steady shuffle of footsteps began behind him as he followed Oliver.

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He knelt on the ground, an arrowhead in his hand, staring straight ahead for a long time. Felicity and Dig stood behind him, neither moving nor daring to speak. The tension in the room was heavy and he wanted badly to hit something. It would have been so easy to turn around and yell. To look for some reason how this wasn’t his fault. But it was. If he hadn’t brought Roy into this— He closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling a heavy breath before opening them again.

“I should have never listened to you both," he began, a slight rasp in his voice as he spoke. He swallowed roughly, trying to keep himself from breaking down. "I might not have been able to save Roy. But I’d feel a lot better if I’d tried.”

Dig’s deep voice pierced the air. “We know that Oliver.”

Matter-of-fact, yet full of meaning.

Dig continued. “We also know you may never forgive us.”

His jaw clenched. “I make my own choices, John.” His thoughts raced. “And I made this one.”

Every breath in that moment was like a knife dragging from his throat, sharp and raw as Felicity countered, “He doesn’t mean forgive us for that.”

He bit back the painful exhale, teetering on the edge as he waited for her to finish that sentence, his chest excruciatingly tight.

“He means…”

Oliver turned and stood, his gaze locking with Felicity’s. He could see the guilt and regret lingering there even before she spoke the final words.

“Forgive us for this.”

She stepped to the side and Roy came out from the shadows, very much alive. His nostrils flared as the anger again threatened to drown him. A wave of other emotions had him so confused, that he wasn’t sure what to feel. Oliver wasn’t a hugger. That was Barry. But in that moment he was torn between wanting to hug Roy and wanting to punch him.

A single word tore from his throat with more emotion than he’d intended as he diverted his gaze. “How?”

Roy stood his ground. His tone was firm and unwavering. “Don’t be mad at them. This was my idea.”

“You could have gotten yourself killed. For real.” An extreme sense of deja-vecu overwhelmed him even as he spoke the words.

“I figured I could hold off until Dig’s guys got into position.”

John stepped forward to explain. “One of Lyla’s contacts, an A.R.G.U.S. freelancer, has a special talent for knifing people in just the right way, leaves a convincing amount of blood without the kill. He laces the blade with a beta blocker…crawl the heartbeat. Gives the illusion of death.”

“Everyone thinks the Arrow is dead,” Felicity added softly. “Which means that Oliver Queen is innocent.”

A lump formed in his throat and he struggled to speak around it. “You did all this…without asking.”

“How many times did you save one of us without asking?” Roy retorted. “This time we had to save you.”

He hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it that night because of the circumstances, but as much as he hated the choice that Roy had made, he’d been damned proud of the kid. There was no trace of doubt in Roy’s voice as he’d spoken those words. Even after all this time, that fact alone momentarily stunned Oliver into silence.

After Lian-Yu, he’d thought he’d live and die without the comfort of real friends. Roy’s words and actions had shown him how wrong he was. For so long, he’d believed that there was nothing good left inside of him. But clearly Roy saw something…a glimmer of light. Maybe there was some humanity left in him after all.

“If everyone thinks your dead,” he said at last. “Then what happens to Roy Harper?”

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As he watched Roy drive away, he heard Felicity ask the same question she’d asked him that night. “So, on a scale of one to ten, how mad at us are you?”

Unlike that night, he found himself turning to meet her gaze, the smile playing at the corners of his lips, though he spoke the same words. “I need to learn to let people help me.”

His eyes spoke the words he didn’t say. _I need to learn to let people love me_.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw John step away as Felicity smiled softly. “Yeah. You could use some practice at that.” She paused before continuing. “I just think you’re so focused on the people you love—”

_You don’t see there are people who love you, too._

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Oliver again found himself in the hallway of that building with Barry. He was dreading what came next. He knew what he’d find when he walked through that door and had almost not come. Barry’s hand on his shoulder drew him from his thoughts, the concern in his friend’s features causing him to sigh in frustration.

“I know tonight’s been intense,” Barry murmured. “I thought my shit was tough, but Oliver, I had no idea—”

He could tell Barry wanted to ask if he was all right. He was a smart kid, though, and knew better than to ask a stupid question like that. Of course he wasn’t all right. He was reliving some of the more painful memories of his past. He hadn’t figured out what this was exactly or what was going on, but Oliver had the feeling that these memories were the least of his worries. No doubt the memories of Lian-Yu would come soon.

He grimaced at the thought of Barry witnessing those. No one close to him besides Sara even had an inkling of what he’d endured. Even then, she didn’t know what had happened to him in those months between when the _Queen’s Gambit_ sunk and they stumbled across each other on the _Amazo_.

“Better just get this over with,” Oliver murmured, exhaling breathily as he ran shaking hands through his hair, grasping and tugging even as the knots again formed in his stomach.

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He opened the door, his hand still shaking, as he strode into the apartment to find Thea lying in a pool of blood, struggling to breath. Before, he wasn’t one to believe in things like out-of-body experiences. But in that moment, he reacted entirely on instinct, his mind on autopilot as he dropped to his knees beside her, ignoring the shattered glass as he carefully turned her over. He reached for her phone to call 911, but Barry’s hand found it first.

Their gazes met and held for a long moment before Barry rose and dialed the number, speaking with the operator as Oliver cradled Thea’s head in his lap, their eyes never leaving each other’s. He wanted to ask her what had happened, but her breaths were so labored that he didn’t dare. Barry’s voice reached his ears as the younger man gave the operator a fake name, but provided the address to where they were and, with Oliver’s help, details regarding Thea’s condition.

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Barry walked behind the rolling bed even as Oliver stayed right beside her. Oliver could barely breath, his knuckles white as one hand gripped the edge of the gurney so tight it was cutting off circulation. As they approached the operating room, the doctor rounded on him.

“How long was she like this?”

His mind raced as he lifted his hands, stammering an answer. “Twenty minutes? Forty minutes? I—I don’t know. I just found her.”

He tried to follow the gurney in, but the doctor stopped him. “I need you to stay here.”

No. What? No.

“I’m not gonna leave her.”

The doctor gave him a stern look. “You need to let us work.”

He stood, rooted to the spot as the nurse turned away from him and entering the room, the door swinging closed behind her. He watched in horror as she flatlined, the doctors and nurses trying desperately to bring her back. For long moments, he was convinced she was gone…that he’d been too late.

It had taken every remaining ounce of his strength not to verbalize his relief when her heart started beating again. Swallowing roughly, he moved a few steps away and leaned back against the wall, his breathing coming out in harsh pants as his legs gave out underneath him. He slid down the wall, his hands clenching in his hair. It wasn’t until he felt the hand on his shoulder that he remembered Barry was there.

“Oliver,” Barry whispered.

Oliver shook his head vehemently, gripping the material of Barry’s shirt. “My sister,” he choked. “My baby sister.”

No one had been there that night to see how he fell apart. Oliver Queen, who hadn’t shed a single tear since losing Shado, could scarcely breath, scalding tears streaming down his cheeks as he’d silently prayed and begged and pleaded with whoever was listening for Thea not to die. But here he was again, this time with Barry witnessing his moment of weakness. Normally, he would have punched Barry in the jaw for hugging him. Yet in that moment, he didn’t have the strength to fend off the gesture. His body shook as used Barry as a rock to keep himself upright.

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They’d moved her to a room where they’d hooked her up to life support. The doctors still weren’t letting him in. He paced the length of the hallway. Barry leaned against a nearby wall, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Oliver—”

Oliver shook his head. “This was my fault.” He paused. “I relived this moment over and over again, thinking that if I’d just accepted Ra's Al Ghul’s offer—”

“No,” Barry countered, laying a hand on Oliver’s shoulder. “It’s not your fault.” He paused. “Do you remember what you told me on that rooftop years ago? ‘You’re going to make mistakes. I’ve made mistakes. But the good you do will far outweigh the bad.’”

Oliver grimaced and glanced toward Thea’s room. “That’s my baby sister in there. I could save the people of Starling City. But I couldn’t save her.”

“You said yourself that you found a way,” Barry murmured.

The doctor chose that moment to step out into the hallway. Barry released his grip on Oliver’s shoulder and took a few steps back to give him a moment. Her gaze was sympathetic and Oliver felt his stomach twist.

“We did the best we could under the circumstances,” she began. “But her injuries were extensive. Even if she were to regain consciousness…We can prolong her life for as long as you wish.”

His gaze flickered to the clipboard the woman held and he sucked in an unsteady breath, his hands shaking slightly. The woman’s next words felt like someone had driven a knife into his heart and kept twisting.

“But it might be best to consider other options.”

Her apology barely reached his ears as the terrifying reality of what she was saying sunk in.

“May I see her?”

The woman nodded and Oliver glanced back at Barry. “I need a minute with her alone. Could you—?”  
Barry moved toward the elevators, stopping for a moment to squeeze his friend’s shoulder before continuing down the corridor as Oliver stepped into Thea’s room.

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The tightness returned to his chest as he took in the sight of her, still as death, in that hospital bed hooked up to those monstrous machines. He barely kept control long enough to utter a breathless “sorry” at the foot of her bed. She couldn’t hear him, but he said it all the same. A click caught his attention and he turned to find Malcolm there.

“Oliver,” the man breathed, his eyes wide with horror.

He studied Malcolm Merlyn for a moment that felt like an eternity, seeing the subtle nuances in his body language that he hadn’t been able to see that night, so lost in his grief. Shaking his head, he watched Malcolm’s face crumble, the tears breaking free as Malcolm grabbed Thea’s hand in his and lost himself to his grief.

A shuddering breath left Oliver’s lips as he laid a hand on Malcolm’s shoulder, squeezing, his voice rough as he murmured. “We’ll get him. We’ll get that son of a bitch and make him pay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooo. Such a different attitude from before. What could this mean?


	3. Changing the Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver is not the same man as he was before; therefore, it's only logical that he's not going to react the exact same way he would have before.

He heard footsteps, but he continued staring blankly ahead, a numbness having taken up residence inside him. It wasn’t like he hadn’t lost people he cared about before. It wasn't like he hadn’t watched the light leave a person’s eyes. But this was different. Thea was all that was left of his family. If he lost her—

“Oh my God,” Felicity breathed as she closed the distance. “Oliver.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see on her face how shocked and terrified she was. His jaw clenched as he struggled to rein in the fresh wave of emotion. As lost as he was in this nightmare, his body and mind reacted instinctively to her presence. This wasn’t real. It was just a memory. Somewhere out there, Felicity, his wife, sat anxiously, trying desperately to figure out what had happened to him…where he was and how to fix this.

“Oliver, we came as soon as we could. What happened?” Dig asked, concern in his voice.

Felicity slid into the chair beside him and, unable to stop himself, he reached for her hand, gripping it tightly in his. She was his anchor. He had to remember that this wasn’t real. That this had happened and that Thea had been fine. When he turned, his gaze flickered to John’s before meeting Felicity’s, then dropping again to his lap.

“Oliver.”

His name was like a prayer on her lips, begging him to say something…anything.

Somehow, he managed to get the words free. “They just left her there…to die.”

“To die. Oliver,” Dig breathed. “Is she—is she—?”

His only response was two simple words…words that tore him apart. “It’s bad.”

Beside him, Felicity’s face crumbled as she struggled to hold back her anguish. He wanted to hold her, to feel her arms wrapped around him. But a familiar sight caught his attention as he gazed out the window at the end of the hall. Purple smoke.

“What is it?” Felicity breathed.

“Smoke,” he replied simply, pulling on his jacket, his jaw tensing.

“The League.” Dig paused. “Screw ‘em. At least until we get our bearings, Oliver. Come up with a plan.”

The rawness of the wound tore at him. He couldn’t change these next few minutes if he wanted to. Not meeting Mateo on that rooftop wasn’t a choice.

“He’s won. There is no plan,” he breathed.

He turned and strode down the corridor, stopping for a moment beside Felicity, his gaze locking with hers. The harshness in his tone softened, part trusting and part tender as he whispered, “Stay here with Thea.” Without waiting for Felicity’s response, he moved toward the elevators.

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Oliver stepped outside, the cool air stinging at his face. His gaze again flickered in the direction where he’d seen the smoke. The thought of reliving all of this again was killing him. But until they knew what this was, he couldn’t risk changing things. For all he knew, they were in the past and everything that they did could cause a ripple effect. He shouldn’t have let Barry stay. That was already a major change.

“How is she?”

He tensed, turning to find Barry leaning against the building nearby, his arms crossed. Barry pushed off from the wall and strode toward Oliver, his expression solemn. Oliver’s gaze dropped from his as he shook his head, the words coming out harsher than he’d intended. “The doctors don’t think she’ll make it.”

A grimace crossed Barry’s lips. “Oliver, I’m—”

“She’ll be fine,” Oliver bit out. “But what comes next—it’s not—”

He could feel the intensity of Barry’s gaze as the younger man waited silently for him to finish the sentence. But he didn’t.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said. “What if Felicity or John sees you?”

Barry shrugged. “They walked right past me earlier. I said hi, but they didn’t even look at me.”

Oliver’s brow furrowed, but he said nothing. It was only a theory that he had no desire to test. Until they had more information they just couldn’t risk it.

“Stay here,” Oliver growled as he walked away.

For once, Barry did what he was asked without question.

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He was at the apartment, packing his things, and could feel Barry’s gaze burning holes in his back. The younger man hadn’t said a word on the way here, though his opinion was clear from the way his jaw was clenched.

“Oliver,” Barry said at last. “This is crazy.”

Oliver sighed. “I know. But it’s the only way.”

Barry opened his mouth to respond, but heard footsteps outside the door in the hallway. He sped up the stairs, hiding behind the wall on the landing overlooking the living area. Oliver managed to divert his gaze back to zipping the bag just as Dig and Felicity opened the door and stepped inside. He straightened, mentally readying himself for the confrontation that he knew would follow.

“Oliver, what’s going on?” Felicity breathed.

“Oliver, where are you going?” Dig added.

He wanted so much to tell them the truth. To tell them that everything would be fine. That he would save Thea and that he’d come back. That he’d defeat Ra’s Al Ghul and return to Starling. But he couldn’t risk it.

“Away,” he responded simply.

His gaze flickered to Felicity’s and his resolve waivered.

“You can’t just leave like this. You have to tell us what’s going on,” she insisted.

An array of emotions bubbled to the surface, threatening to break free of the mask he’d put into place to protect them. He swallowed roughly, his gaze dropping from hers.

“There’s a way for me to save her.”

“Thea?” Felicity questioned. “Oliver. That’s not possible.”

“Yes, it is.”

Oliver’s eyes followed the direction of the voice to find Malcolm standing in the doorway.

“There are waters in Nanda Parbat,” Malcolm continued. “They’ve permitted Ra’s to live for over a hundred years. And in rare instances, told in legend, those waters have been used to restore the dead to life.”

His gaze dropped from Malcolm’s. The choice had nearly torn him apart the first time and it was no different this time. In fact, it was worse knowing what would follow that choice. He’d be separated from Felicity for an excruciating amount of time and it would hurt her. He’d sworn to himself that he’d never hurt her again, but here he stood about to do it again. In the moment, he suddenly realized that even faced with the exact same situation knowing how his particular decision would nearly destroy everything, he still made the same choice.

“He offered to use the Lazarus pit on Thea, didn’t he?” Malcolm bit out, his words harsh.

Confused, John said, “Lazarus, as in from the bible, Lazarus?”

“The pit’s real,” Oliver confirmed. “I’ve seen it. I can save Thea.”

He could hear the disdain in John’s voice. “Right. But only if you become the new Ra’s.”

His gaze flickered to Felicity’s, biting back a grimace at the combined anger and fear in her eyes. “Ok. Well, even if a magic hot tub were not crazy talk, we’re not going to let you go and join the League of Psychotic Murders, even if it is to save Thea.”

“Which this wouldn’t,” Malcolm interjected, his heated gaze meeting Oliver’s. “The waters change a person…in the soul. Even if they work, the Thea you get back will not be the one you lost.”

Oliver’s jaw clenched as he just barely restrained himself from beating the living shit out of Malcolm. “The one we lost. Because of you.” Despite knowing that Malcolm was hurting, too, Oliver couldn’t stop the venomous words spilling out of his mouth.

“Oliver—” Felicity began.

His gaze locked with hers, his resolve not fading. “Don’t. I’m going.”

She stepped forward, grabbing his hand and squeezing tightly. “I know. I’m coming with you.”

He froze, the feel of her warm hand in his causing a lump to form in his throat.

“Assuming that this works,” she continued. “Someone’s going to need to bring Thea back home.”

A brief image of her naked beneath his shaking hands, her body arching into his touch, flitted across his mind’s eye. “We need to find a way to Nanda Parbat.”

\--> \--> \--> \--> --> --> --> --> --> --> --> --> --> --> --> --> --> --> --> --> --> 

Felicity was off talking to Ray and Dig had returned to the lair, presumably to plan for their trip, leaving Barry and Oliver alone in the apartment.

“This is how you save her, isn’t it?” Barry asked.

Oliver, not trusting himself to speak, simply nodded.

“And you come back?”

Again, Oliver nodded. “So does Thea. Alive.”

A tense silence filled the room as he watched Barry take it in. The younger man had no idea what was coming. Oliver did and even so, he couldn’t think past the maelstrom of emotions threatening to consume him.

“I’m going,” Barry said suddenly.

Oliver tensed. “No. We have no idea what this is. If they see you—”

“They won’t,” Barry insisted. “I was standing right behind you nearly the whole time and they had no idea I was there. They can’t see me. It’s like I’m—some sort of ghost.”

He was hallucinating. Something about they device the Thinker had used—Which meant that he and Barry were likely unconscious somewhere, possibly S.T.A.R. labs. They weren’t dead. This was all in his head. What was the Thinker playing at with this? Then, it hit him.

“This is a distraction.”

Barry nodded. “Most likely, yeah. DeVoe—he’s up to something big. He must see us as a threat. He wants us out of the picture so he’s trying to keep you—keep us—here with this—” He waved his hands at their surroundings. “Place. He knew that if he could get you here, you’d be blinded by what you were feeling and he knew that once I caught a glimpse of it, I wouldn’t leave you here to deal with it alone.” He grimaced, running his hands through his hair. “Bastard is always one step ahead of us. How the hell do we get out of here?”

Oliver’s gaze drifted to the door, murmuring, “I don’t know. But until we can figure it out, I don’t think I have much choice but to play along.” His gaze met Barry’s, a ghost of a smile crossing his lips. “That doesn’t mean I can’t change the rules along the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh. What's Oliver planning?


	4. Back in Hell...Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first scene will be from Felicity’s POV.

Felicity sat beside the bed that had been set up for Oliver in the lab. Barry, one of her closest friends, lay in the other beside it. Returning her gaze to her husband, she squeezed his hand, willing back the tears. From what they could tell, the two were in a coma and nothing that they’d tried so far to wake them up had worked.

“We’ll figure this out,” Caitlin had assured her. “This isn’t the first time we’ve encountered something like this. They’ll both be fine.”

The words had been anything but comforting. If they’d dealt with this before, why didn’t they know how to fix it?

“The last time, they just had to get to the end of the script. Maybe that’s the case here.”

Again, not comforting. What script? She lifted her free hand to his face, cradling his cheek as she brushed the pad of her thumb over his lips tenderly. What was going on in his head right now? She hated not knowing…not being there with him to help him through it. Feelings of utter helplessness threatened to drown her. Was this what Oliver felt every day? How did he not let it consume him?

She rose, moving her thumb and brushing a kiss against his lips, whispering against them, “I don’t know if you can hear me, Oliver, but I’m here. I’m here and I love you so much. Please come back to me.”

  
The not-so-subtle silence of his surroundings was the first thing that his sluggish mind processed. When he tried to open his eyes, he was overwhelmed by sharp, intense head pain that left his even more disoriented. If Oliver could think, he would have realized the lack of noise around him was an ominous reminder of a place he hadn’t seen since just after the Undertaking. The headache faded and he slowly opened his eyes to find Barry lying beside him, the only indication that he was alive being the soft moans and slight movements as he tried to come out of the same fog that Oliver had just escaped.

Oliver’s gaze flickered to the world around him, his muscles tense as he automatically assessed their situation. The Island was familiar enough that he could find them shelter and other necessities with ease. But what the hell were they doing here? Gradually, he began to remember pieces of their battle with DeVoe—memories that his mind had blocked before. He saw the others, thankfully escaping unscathed. His last recollection was of Felicity’s face hovering over him, her features etched with fear and concern.

Barry’s theory was seeming more and more plausible with each moment. Why would DeVoe let them all escape unless he was certain they would be occupied enough not to interfere with whatever he had planned? It made sense now why it had been him and Barry he had chosen to target. DeVoe thought that they were the central driving force of their respective teams.

He allowed a slight smile to touch his lips. But there was something the man hadn’t accounted for and that was Felicity Smoak-Queen when she was on a mission. It was one of the many things he loved about her. She had a resolve that not even the horrors they’d experienced together could shake. If anyone would figure this out, it was Felicity.

“What the hell happened?” Barry moaned beside him.

Oliver shook his head. “I think we were getting close to something that DeVoe didn’t want us to know—so he changed the rules.”

Barry grimaced, massaging his temples. “Yeah. He has a way of doing that.” He paused, sitting up slowly, looking around him. “What is this place anyway?”

Oliver was silent for several long moments, his gaze fixed directly ahead of him as he struggled to determine how much to tell his friend. Felicity and Dig knew bits and pieces whereas everyone else knew nothing at all. He’d never been put in a situation of having to reveal anything about that part of his past to Barry.

“The Island,” he murmured at last. “Lian Yu.”

He felt Barry’s intense gaze on him even without looking in the younger man’s direction and could guess what was going through his mind. Sighing heavily, Oliver massaged his temples.

“When the _Gambit_ went down, I spent years marooned here.”

Barry nodded. “Yeah. I know. That much is public knowledge. Five years.”

Oliver shook his head. “Three.”

A frown crossed Barry’s lips, confusion clear in his expression. “Then where were you the other two?”

“I was rescued,” Oliver explained. “By Amanda Waller. She blackmailed me into working for A.R.G.U.S. Threatened to kill me.” He grimaced. “When that didn’t work, she threatened to kill a man’s family—his wife and son. I didn’t have a choice.”

He fell into silence, giving Barry a moment to process before continuing.

“I did things there that I’m not proud of,” he murmured. “I killed and tortured men. I don’t know how long I was in Hong Kong. Months. Maybe a year. At one point, I traveled to Coast City.” He grinned wryly. “I guess that’s where the persona of the Hood started to emerge. I knew I couldn’t go home. Not as the man I’d become. I hid in the shadows, targeting men—targeting killers. And that’s where Waller found me again. She needed me to go back to Lian Yu.”

His confession was interrupted by the sound of seagulls and he froze, seemingly realizing for the first time where on Lian Yu he was. He stood and stumbled toward the familiar life raft, his hands shaking as his legs threatened to give out underneath him. When he was feet away from it, he caught sight of the orange life jacket and knew what waited for him. He swallowed roughly, only snapped from his daze when he felt Barry’s hand on his shoulder, causing him to turn away, moisture temporarily blurring his vision before he blinked it back. He slammed his eyes shut tight and his hands curled into fists.

“Oliver,” Barry murmured. “What—?”

A wave of nausea struck, like it had that day, but he controlled it, pushing it to the back of his mind. Even knowing that this was just a facsimile—a memory manufactured solely to fuck with his mind—and was no more real than the nightmares he’d experienced for years after the Island, it was taking every ounce of his self-control to keep a level head. That bastard knew just how to twist the knife.

“My father’s body,” he rasped. “I grabbed his hand that day, hoping that it had all been a hallucination caused by dehydration and exhaustion. But it—his hand—was ice cold. He was long dead.”

The hand on his shoulder squeezed and Oliver looked up to meet Barry’s gaze.

“I’m sorry,” the younger man murmured.

Shaking his head, Oliver shrugged off Barry's hand and turned back to the boat, his expression solemn as he bent to heft his father’s body over his shoulder. Without a word or even a glance at Barry, he began the climb up the mountain to the spot where he’d buried his father’s body.  


With the last rock in place, he rose, brushing the dirt from his hands as he stared out at the ocean. His father hand been dead for ten years, but being here in this moment made the wound as fresh as if it had been mere days ago. All the anger and hatred he’d felt then was threatening to swallow him whole again as he clenched the familiar black book in his hand. His father’s legacy. He’d been so convinced all those years that he was meant to bring to justice every man who had ever wronged Starling City. Barry stood behind him, saying nothing.

He turned, grasping the book tighter. “This book contains the name of every man responsible in some way for destroying Starling City. Every greedy bastard that put financial gain above the good of the city…above Human life.” His eyes met Barry’s. “He told me to right his wrongs. I thought this book was my way to do that. I didn’t set out to kill, but I did because I thought it’s what my father wanted me to do. Save Starling City at any cost. Protect my mother and Thea at any cost.”

Barry grimaced. “I know the feeling. Being willing to do anything to protect those you love.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but was stopped by excruciating pain in his shoulder. Gasping in surprise, clenching his teeth around the scream threatening to break free, he dropped to the ground, clutching at his shoulder. He vaguely heard Barry calling out his name and moving to help him, but he waved him away. The pain nearly caused him to pass out again. Overwhelmed by a sense of deja-vecu, he turned to find a hooded figure on the opposite cliff, a bow in hand as he prepared another arrow.

“Yao Fei,” he breathed.

Another arrow soared through the air, striking his other shoulder, the whistle of the weapon through the air the last thing Oliver heard before he was consumed by darkness.


	5. Chapter 5: Well, That Was Anticlimactic

The light was blinding at first as Oliver tried to open his eyes, but another headache flaring made him close them again. He groaned, bringing a hand up to massage his temples, surprised when he felt a familiar, delicate hand clasped in his. A slight twitch of his thumb brought it into contact with something solid and definitely rough.

He opened his eyes again, this time keeping them open as he struggled to adjust to the brightness. When the glare had cleared he looked at his thumb to find it atop a glimmering ring that sat atop a pale, thin finger. His heart missed a beat. He recognized that hand. He’d spent hours upon hours staring at it as it had moved at lightning speed across keyboard after keyboard, agile enough to save his life a dozen times over.

_ Felicity _ .

His gaze flickered upward and he found her tear-streaked face staring down at him, her bright baby blue eyes shining with more unshed tears. Her free hand came up to cradle his cheek and he laid his free hand on top of it, his eyes closing as he leaned into her touch. Her touch was like beautiful fresh air that he’d been denied for what felt like forever. He’d missed her. The real her. The her that was his wife. His partner.

“Oliver,” she breathed. “God, I thought--”

A small smile curved the corners of his lips as he brushed a kiss over the center of her palm and turned his eyes to meet hers again. Oliver wasn’t typically the type for grand romantic gestures, but something about Felicity brought it out in him. She made him feel alive in ways that no one else could.

“Rumors of my demise are greatly exaggerated,” he murmured. At Felicity’s puzzled expression, he laughed. “Really? Mark Twain.”

Felicity arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you even knew who Mark Twain was.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I paid attention in class sometimes, you know. Besides, teenage me thought that quote was great.”

“I’m sure,” she huffed, rolling her eyes. Then her expression softened. “But really...are you okay? What happened? One minute you were fine and the next minute you and Barry had both passed out--”

A tightness filled his chest as he remembered that Barry had been with him, too, and his gaze darted around. He only relaxed when he saw the younger man talking to Iris in another corner of the room, the two of them appearing to be in the midst of their own private reunion.

“He woke up just a couple minutes before you,” Felicity said in response to his unanswered question.

Oliver struggled to a sitting position and Felicity glared at him sternly, opening her mouth to protest, but was cut off by Caitlin entering the room. 

“Don’t even think about leaving that bed, Mr. Queen, until I run some more tests to be sure you wouldn’t fall over the moment you stood up,” Caitlin said sternly grabbing a blood draw kit from a nearby tray. 

He fought back a wince at the metallic flash of the needle inside the sealed plastic bag. Just because he’d been stuck with needles dozens of times over the last several years it didn’t mean he liked them. His gaze locked with hers, leveling her with a patented Arrow scowl, a slight growl in his tone (what Felicity liked to call his Arrow voice) as he responded.

“I’m perfectly capable of sitting in a bed, Dr. Snow.”

Caitlin arched an emotionless eyebrow at him in challenge. He was beginning to wonder if there really was much of a line these days between her and Frost. The young doctor certainly seemed to have it in her to channel the other woman’s cold demeanor on a whim when the occasion called for it.  He arched an eyebrow in return, daring her to contradict him.

But she said nothing, Felicity rising from the chair beside Oliver’s bed, leaving space for Caitlin to do what she was going to do. As she moved, Felicity fixed him with a look that said without a word being spoken that if he didn’t do exactly what Caitlin wanted, there would be consequences. His gaze held hers for a moment before he sighed in surrender, offering Caitlin the arm closest to her.

He tensed when he felt the needle go in just a little harder than he was sure was strictly necessary, fixing Caitlin with another Arrow scowl. A small smirk played across the woman’s lips as she murmured, “Relax. It’ll make it harder to find the vein.”

He huffed, doing as he was told, his gaze flickering around the room. Surely being STAR Labs, she had more sophisticated means on-hand for getting a blood sample, meaning she was using the old fashioned needle just to torture him because she knew she could. He hadn’t considered Caitlin to be particularly vindictive, but then...he hadn’t seen her well and truly pissed off. Maybe Frost had a bigger hold on her than the rest of Team Flash liked to believe.

Later, once the tests had come back and Caitlin was satisfied that he wasn’t going to fall over at any moment and Ramon and whatever version of Wells they were currently working with had returned with Big Belly for everyone, Oliver began puzzling the mystery that was DeVoe. He’d been so close to figuring out what the man’s end game was. But something about waking up to Felicity hovering over him had driven any thoughts of DeVoe from his mind, leaving him struggling to recapture the picture of what had been a series of very lucid dreams. From the sounds of it, Barry wasn’t doing much better.

“Every time we got close, he threw something else at us.”

He could hear the frustration in the younger man’s voice as they relayed their experiences to their teams. Felicity’s brow furrowed as she chewed the end of a fry thoughtfully. He couldn’t help the crooked grin that crossed his lips at the adorable gesture, his expression falling when he noted the smirk on Barry’s face. He took another bite of his burger to cover it, but he knew it was too late. 

What was wrong with him? Even before DeVoe’s weapon and the lucid dreams, he hadn’t been this...sappy. Yes, he’d missed Felicity and had worried he’d never see her again. But he needed to get his head in the game if they were going to have any hope of figuring this out. He listened thoughtfully as the others went over their minimal intelligence on DeVoe again. They’d rehashed all of this a dozen times over or more and they continued to come up dry. They needed some new leads or this whole thing was likely to dead-end...and that couldn’t happen with DeVoe still on the loose. God only knew what the man’s end game was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a bit short, but I haven't posted anything is so long I was eager to get you all something. I'm hoping to get another chapter out soon.


End file.
